


Fractured Souls

by dragonflybeach



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Injury Recovery, M/M, Post-Season/Series 10 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 04:51:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5730163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonflybeach/pseuds/dragonflybeach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of all the things Sam had imagined would happen when he saw Gadreel face to face, this wasn't one of them.</p><p>My entry for the spn reversebang. Art by the fabulously talented Nonexistenz can be found here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/5568337<br/>or at the end of the story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fractured Souls

Sam had imagined what he would say to Gadreeel if they ever came face to face. He had rehearsed in his head the recriminations and condemnations he would (justifiably) hurl at the dishonest angel.

He hadn't imagined that he would be stunned into silence that Gadreel would have the nerve to actually walk into the bunker.

Or that Dean would try to cut him in half.

By the time Sam and Cas had disarmed Dean and wrestled him into the dungeon, Sam had decided that the confrontation over what Gadreel had done to him could wait.

"Sam!" Dean growled angrily. "Are you actually going to listen to him? He _stole_ you, Sam! He lied! He locked you in your head and he ... "

"He may be our only chance to get to Metatron, Dean." Sam answered. "I don't trust him. Not at all. But there's a bigger picture, here."

Dean's arguments then turned to protestations over being locked in the dungeon for the time being, so Sam and Cas locked him in and went back upstairs to see to the wounded angel.

Except there wasn't a wounded angel to see.

A puddle of blood remained, trailing toward the front door, but no Gadreel. His car was gone.

From the sheer volume of blood, Sam was surprised Gadreel was actually able to drive away, and figured he wouldn't get far.

"Come on," he called over his shoulder toward Cas as he opened the car door. "The field."

There was a wide open field off the road leading to the bunker where Sam and Dean sometimes would go to shoot weapons or look at the stars.

Gadreel loved that field, loved the fresh air and blue sky, hated being confined in the stone bunker after so many years imprisoned in Heaven.

For once, Sam was grateful for the bleed-through memories, because Gadreel's car was stopped at the edge of the field. The wounded angel himself lay in the grass, not far from the road, looking up at the sky.

 _Looking toward home_ , Sam's brain supplied traitorously.

Gadreel started when Sam and Cas approached him, trying to crawl away weakly.

"Please. I'll leave you alone, I swear." he begged.

Cas knelt and reached toward the wounded angel. "We're not here to hurt you."

"No." Gadreel frowned, shaking his head. "Your Grace. Healing me will only weaken you."

Castiel, stubborn as always, healed him anyway.

Gadreel half smiled and nodded his gratitude. "Did you hear him?"

"Metatron. Yes." Castiel nodded in return. "Where is he going? What does he want?"

"I'm afraid...humanity."

Sam and Cas exchanged an uneasy look.

"Let's get back to the Bunker." Sam said. "We've got work to do."

The odor hit him as soon as he opened the front door of the bunker.

"What's that smell?" Gadreel asked from somewhere behind him, as Sam broke into a run.

He skidded to a stop as soon as he came into the library and saw the box that had held the First Blade laid open.

"Son of a bitch!" he hissed, kicking the nearest chair.

Castiel appeared in the far doorway, his expression confirming what Sam already knew. "Dean is gone."

It was pointless, he knew it was pointless, but he pulled out his phone and hit Dean's speed dial button anyway.

"A demon helped Dean?" Gadreel asked Cas softly.

"Crowley." Sam snapped while waiting for the beep.

The two angels murmured softly while Sam pleaded with Dean's voice mail.

"Are you sure it was Crowley?" Cas asked when Sam hung up.

"Who else would he summon?" Sam said, throwing his arms wide. "I mean, he and Crowley have been bromancing over the Blade ever since Dean got the Mark!"

"The Mark?" Gadreel looked to Cas.

"The Mark of Cain." Cas answered.

Understanding spread across Gadreel's face. "So that's what Dean cut me with - the First Blade. In a way, that could be useful."

That statement brought Sam up short. "What?"

"Well, Metatron is more powerful than ever, but if Dean has the First Blade and the mark, that might give us our best chance." Gadreel shrugged.

He outlined his thoughts to Sam and Cas. They needed to break Metatron's connection to the angel tablet, which was in his office, in Heaven. Gadreel could get them to the door, but they needed a plan from there.

Castiel's soldier training kicked in then, as he began to strategize how to get the two of them into Heaven.

It fell to Sam to try to minimize the damage Dean would inflict and bring him to Metatron, as he obviously was the most logical choice of the three of them.

As the three of them got into two separate cars, Sam wished Cas and Gadreel luck, and urged them to be careful and take care of themselves. Watching them drive away, Sam was surprised to realize he had been sincere about both of them.

Hours later, when Sam saw Dean, invincible Dean with the Mark of Cain, bloody, battered, and fallen at Metatron's feet, he knew Cas and Gadreel had failed and were probably dead.

He didn't have long to think on it, as Metatron shoved an angel blade into Dean's chest and his only thought was to get to Dean.

A few minutes after that, when Dean said "I'm proud of us." and then went terribly, finally silent in Sam's arms, Sam knew he was alone in the world again.

He had 750 miles to think about it.

* * *

Cas hadn't answered his phone.

Sam called four times before he gave up, knowing that honestly the best he could hope for was that Cas and Gadreel had been captured in Heaven.

He was stunned to find one crappy brown Lincoln in front of the bunker when he drove up.

Cas opened the front door even as Sam cut off the ignition.

"Dean?" the angel asked as Sam got out of the car alone.

"He's ... he ... " Sam couldn't say the word aloud, made a vague gesture toward the back seat.

Cas walked over far enough to see Dean on the back seat, and stopped.

"Metatron told me, but I had hoped he was lying."

"Not ... lying." Sam choked out.

He took a deep breath, opened the door, and lifted Dean out of the car.

Cas opened the bunker door, and followed Sam to lay Dean on his memory foam bed.

"Dean." Cas whispered hoarsely.

With the light on in the room, Sam realized for the first time that Cas was black and blue and swaying on his feet.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I'll recover." Cas shrugged. "We walked into a trap. We were locked in jail cells almost as soon as we arrived. Gadreel ... was willing to sacrifice himself to stop Metatron. He actually tried, and if it had not been for Hannah grabbing his arm and redirecting his blade at the last moment, he would have done so. Metatron has been captured and imprisoned. I brought Gadreel here. He was nearly fatally wounded and none of the other angels were willing to heal him. Hannah stopped bleeding, but she did not heal him because of the outcry from the other angels. There is too much ... hard feeling still remaining. I brought him here and put him in the bed I used when I was last here."

"Can you heal him?" Sam asked.

"No, but you can, Sam."

Sam turned and walked down the hall, throwing open the door to the last bedroom on the right. The angel lay sprawled on the bed, covered in blood, eyes closed.

"Cas, I ..." Sam ran a hand through his hair. "I can ... I mean, I know _how_ to stitch up a human, but I know nothing about how to heal an angel."

"Gadreel can heal himself, if he has access to grace. There is a minute amount of _his_ grace remaining in you from his possession. In addition, you and Dean are archangel vessels. You have the strongest souls on the planet. Contact with your soul will amplify the power of Gadreel's grace, allowing him to heal himself."

"Cas, no." Sam shook his head. "I mean, I know he helped us, and he was willing to give his life, but you can't honestly ask me to let him possess me again! Look what happened last time!"

"He would not have to possess you. Physical contact should be enough." Cas assured.

"What do you mean, physical contact?" Sam frowned.

"There is a reason that most world religions believe that laying hands on the sick and praying can heal disease and injury. Focused transfer of soul energy is a powerful force. If you spend several minutes, several times per day touching Gadreel, or allowing him to touch you, he should recover in a week or so. In addition, he should be able to heal the concussion you sustained tonight, and your ongoing physical ailments."

"Why can't he use the soul of the vessel he's in?" Sam asked.

"The vessel is dead. He was killed when Dean attacked him. Only Gadreel is in that body. There is no human soul. Besides, his vessel was not an archangel vessel. If his vessel was still alive, the healing would have taken much, much longer."

"I'll ... I'll think about it." Sam promised. "But right now, I'm ... I can't think. Period."

"You've been through an ordeal. You need food and rest." Cas said.

Sam shook his head, looking back down the hall toward Dean's room. "Yeah. I don't see that happening."

"Sam." Cas sighed. "You can't let yourself become debilitated. Metatron is likely to strike again immediately, knowing that you will be at least mentally diminished, if not physically as well. In addition, Abbadon's forces are still out there ... "

"Yeah." Sam rubbed his hands over his face. "I know. But this is all just ... "

"I will go get you something to eat." Cas offered. "Sit down, have something to drink, and I will return as soon as I can."

"I will." Sam promised. "Later. I've got to ... " his voice broke and he trailed off for a moment before regaining his composure. "I've got to clean Dean up."

Sam got a bowl, filled it with warm water, and grabbed a washcloth and towel from the linen closet on the way to Dean's room. He gently washed away all the blood and cleaned every cut as carefully as he would have if Dean were awake to feel it. Twice, he had to stop to compose himself, overwhelmed with emotions. Cas hovered silently, bringing a bowl of clean water twice when the one Sam was using became dark red. Sam then stitched the wound on Dean's chest, and Cas helped him change Dean into clean clothes. Cas poured used water out in Dean's sink, rinsed the wash cloths and spread them on the edge of the sink, and then followed Sam to the kitchen.

Sam washed up there and rinsed the bowls, but left them in the sink.

Cas patted his shoulder awkwardly. "I'm going to get you some food now."

Sam walked out to the library, sitting down at a table while Cas continued on to the front door. When he heard the door close, Sam pulled out a bottle of whiskey.

Five shots later, he stood and made his way to the dungeon. Everything was still half set up from Dean summoning Crowley earlier (yesterday? the day before? it was all a blur against the horror that Dean was _dead.)_ so within two minutes Sam was summoning the same demon.

Or trying to, at least.

He waited for ten minutes after finishing the spell.

Nothing happened.

Of course, it was entirely possible that he had missed a step or something, given his current mental state. He repeated the spell again, slowly and carefully, as if he couldn't do this spell in his sleep by now.

He was still waiting when Cas found him there, his blue eyes dark with sympathy.

"Sam, what did you do with Dean?"

Sam frowned. "What do you mean, what did I do with Dean?"

"Dean's not on his bed." Cas said slowly.

Sam was on his feet and shoving past the angel in a heartbeat.

Cas was right. Dean's bed was empty.

Sam tore down the hall and threw open the door to find that Gadreel had apparently not moved. He shook the wounded man for good measure, but Gadreel only moaned and turned his head.

"Where is he?" Sam asked, shoving past Cas again.

He went back to Dean's room, and this time, he spotted a folded piece of paper on the desk that hadn't been there earlier.

He unfolded it and read the single sentence.

"Sammy let me go."

He whirled around again to find Cas right behind him, having obviously read the note when Sam had.

"Cas, what the hell?"

"Is it Dean's handwriting?" Cas asked.

Sam looked at the note again, really looked at it. "Yeah. Yeah, it's Dean's writing."

"The only thing I can think of is that it may have something to do with the Mark. I'll start researching while you get some rest."

"No!" Sam exploded. "Dean is ... something stole Dean's body! The bunker is supposed to be warded against anything supernatural! I've got to ... I've got to find him, Cas! I'm going to get him back and he's going to need his body!"

"Sam, you're practically swaying on your feet. You're exhausted and suffering from a head injury. We can work on finding Dean and getting him back tomorrow." Cas said. "For now, you need to eat and get some rest."

"I am not going to _rest_ until I find my brother!" Sam shouted.

He barely saw Castiel's hand near his head from the corner of his eye.

Then everything went dark.

* * *

Sam drifted back into wakefulness slowly, lazily opening his eyes in a very dark room with only minimal light coming from the vent in the door, Dean laying by his side, their shoulders and arms touching. Not Dean's bed, too firm, but too soft to be Sam's bed.

He shifted slightly, about to settle back into sleep, until he remembered that Dean was dead.

And _missing._

He leapt from the bed, fumbling to find some kind of light source.

"Sam."

The voice gave him some insight as to exactly where he was, but did little to ease his panic.

Gadreel.

It was Gadreel who had said his name.

Sam crossed the room to the door in two long strides and felt along the wall until he found the light switch.

They were in the room Cas had put Gadreel in. Gadreel was lying on the bed, in pajama pants with bandages covering most of his bare chest.

Sam looked down to find himself in jeans and a tee shirt, his flannel shirt, belt, and boots arranged neatly on the dresser.

Cas had knocked him out and put him in the room with Gadreel.

Sam leaned against the wall, concentrating on breathing in, counting to five, and the breathing out, again counting to five.

"Sam." Gadreel repeated, this time sounding more distressed.

He looked toward the bed. The angel had rolled onto his side, and was trying to sit up without pulling too much on his chest wound.

It was only because Sam knew how much of a bitch that could be that he crossed the room and helped Gadreel to sit up on the side of the bed.

"Thank you." Gadreel panted, his eyes glazed with pain. "I ... I did not ask Castiel to bring you here."

"Yeah, I know." Sam said. "I'm sure Cas took that upon himself."

"I do thank you for your presence." Gadreel continued. "I feel better this morning."

Sam frowned, realizing that physically, he felt better as well. His head didn't hurt at all, even though he still had a knot. His usual morning chest ache that he chased away with a handful of Advil and a shot of whiskey in his first cup of coffee, was noticeably absent.

Before he could comment, he noticed Gadreel shifting around, trying to find a way to push himself into a standing position without pulling on his chest wound.

 _The chest wound Dean gave him, when Gadreel was trying to help_ , Sam's inner voice whispered traitorously.

Sam sighed and knelt down. "Put your arms around my neck." He instructed. Gadreel did so, and Sam put his arms under Gadreel's arms, clasping his hands loosely around the other man's back. "On three." he said, and felt Gadreel nod in response.

Sam stood slowly, lifting Gadreel as he and Dean had done for one another so many times.

The thought brought a fresh wave of pain, and the moment Sam was sure Gadreel's feet were securely under him, he spun and fled the room.

Gadreel said something, but Sam did not pause long enough to hear it.

He followed the smell of coffee and food to the kitchen. Cas stood at the stove, a plate of burned bacon on the counter beside him, while not so much _frying_ eggs as boiling them in the bacon grease.

_The way Dean cooked them._

Sam's heart seized in his throat, and he spun all the way around searching the room.

The two of them were alone.

Cas seemed to understand.

"I haven't found anything." he said. "I just ... this was the way Dean taught me to make eggs."

"Yeah." Sam nodded, pressing his lips together and focusing on the coffee.

"You and Gadreel need your strength." Cas continued. "Protein to help repair the body. I've made eggs and bacon and toast. You can put peanut butter on the toast."

"Gadreel needs to eat?" Sam poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table. "Do you eat too, now?"

"No," Cas said, turning back to the eggs. "My physical body is fine. The problem is my grace, and eating won't help it."

"Yeah." Sam agreed, staring down into his cup. "So, finding Dean ... "

"I think it would be best if you and Gadreel stay here for a week or so. Research as much as you can into the Mark." Cas put a plate in front of Sam and sat down across the table. "Heal Gadreel. And you." He waited until Sam looked up at him before he continued. "This will not be an easy fight, Sam. No matter which faction has Dean, whether Crowley, or Abaddon's followers, or the angels, they won't give him up easily. They're probably looking for a way to harness the Mark's power."

"Crowley." Sam said, and Cas tilted his head. "Crowley has him. I would bet ... anything. I just know he does."

"Crowley is the most likely possibility." Cas agreed. "He would have reason, and the wards on the bunker were altered to allow him the first time you brought him here."

"Death." Sam suggested. "Summon Death and ask him where Dean is. He would know, right? And I don't think he would come if I call him. And if he did, he's probably not happy about my not going with him last time."

"I will summon Death and ask him, away from here." Cas stood as Gadreel entered the kitchen and started preparing another plate. "The two of you should stay here and monitor for demonic omens, if it is Crowley."

"I need to find Dean." Sam said stubbornly.

"This is the best way to find him." Cas argued. "I will do some preliminary reconnaissance. You and Gadreel find as much information as possible. Heal yourselves. If we have only a human, an angel, and a partial angel against an army of angels or demons, we must be as strong as possible." He gestured toward the table with his free hand and put the plate on the table. "Sit. Eat. You need to repair your vessel."

"Castiel, you should have allowed me to die." Gadreel said glumly as he stared at his plate. "Or left me there, to face Heaven's judgement."

"Heaven is unfit to judge anyone." Cas told him. "You sought redemption. If you are sincere in making amends for your past mistakes, we accept your offer of assistance. There is much work to be done."

Both Sam and Gadreel looked up at Cas in surprise.

"Castiel," Gadreel shook his head. "My mistakes are legion. In my pride and foolishness, I have killed an innocent man. I have ... "

"Gadreel, tell me." Cas interrupted. "At the time, did you believe you were doing the right thing?

"Yes." Gadreel answered simply.

"That is good enough for me." Cas replied. "And of all humans, Sam can understand."

Cas turned away from the table, went to the refrigerator, and poured two glasses of milk. He put them in front of Sam and Gadreel, who still watched him in surprised silence.

"Eat." He instructed. "After breakfast, you can begin your research. After lunch, you can lay hands on one another. Fifteen minutes every eight hours should be a good routine."

Cas strode purposefully out of the kitchen.

Sam and Gadreel looked at one another warily, and then ate.

* * *

After their meal, Sam rose, gathering his dishes. Gadreel winced and sat back down as he tried to push himself up from the table.

"Easy." Sam said, hurriedly setting his dishes on the counter and coming to help Gadreel stand.

There were several red spots on the white bandages.

"You're bleeding again." Sam gestured at the bandages. "Let me see your wounds."

"That's not ... OW!" Gadreel shouted as Sam ripped off one of the bandages.

The wound underneath was a sigil crudely carved into the skin. The cut wasn't very deep, but long, jagged, and oozed blood.

"Do the rest look like this?" Sam asked.

"They are different sigils." Gadreel answered, his voice tight.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Are most of them cuts similar to this?"

"Yes," Gadreel hissed as Sam probed the edges of the cut. "And there is one deep puncture wound."

Sam sighed. "Go to your bed and lie down. I'm going to get some supplies and then I will come stitch the wounds."

"That is not necessary." Gadreel said.

"It is if you want these cuts to heal properly." Sam huffed. "The whole faith healer routine is one thing, but if you want these cuts to close quickly, you need the edges together. They're too wide and jagged as they are."

"Sam." Gadreel shook his head. "I do not deserve your assistance. I killed Kevin Tran. I recruited angels to follow Metatron, who in turn convinced them to kill themselves."

"Yeah, well I let Lucifer out of the cage." Sam grimaced, then shrugged and turned to walk away.

"I let Lucifer into the garden." Gadreel countered.

"Are we going to argue all day about who screwed up worse, or are we going to stitch your chest up, because I've got a brother to find." Sam snapped, heading toward the supply room.

By the time he had rounded up a needle, dental floss, scissors, and bandages, Sam found Gadreel laying on his bed.

Sam didn't say a word, just patted the area of the first wound with peroxide, passed the needle through a lighter flame, and started stitching.

Gadreel clenched his fists around the edges of the mattress and gritted his teeth, but didn't say anything either.

When he finished, Sam sat back for a moment, mentally counting the number of stitches remaining.

"Would a pain pill help?" He asked. "We've got a few strong ones left. I don't know ... how much good it would do for you, but we could try it."

"You do not owe me any kindness, Sam." Gadreel said, his eyes closed.

"Look, seriously," Sam sighed. "We've barely even gotten started. You've got, at least 50 more stitches to go on the small wounds, and then we've got the big one. This is going to hurt like a bitch."

Gadreel ground his teeth and didn't answer.

Sam went and got him a pain pill and a glass of water.

"Sam."

"Shut up and take it." Sam said, helping Gadreel to sit up again. "If not for your sake, for mine. I don't want to spend the next couple hours torturing you."

"I deser ... " Gadreel began.

"No." Sam interrupted him. "No, you don't deserve to be tortured. No one does."

Gadreel swallowed the pill and drank the water, handing the empty glass back to Sam.

"Thank you." he said. "You are a good man, Sam Winchester."

"Huh." Sam snorted. "We'll give that a few minutes to take effect."

He took the glass back to the kitchen and puttered around for a few minutes, checking his email and his saved new alert for demonic signs. There wasn't anything, again, so he washed his hands again, drank a glass of water himself, and then slowly walked back to Gadreel's room.

The angel lay where Sam had left him, staring at the ceiling. Sam checked the time, and decided to wait a few more minutes. Finally, he went back in to the room.

"All right, let's try again." He said, gently peeling off the next bandage.

"That hurt less." Gadreel told him, his voice reflecting surprise.

"Good." Sam nodded, getting to work on the cut underneath.

They spent most of the morning that way, Gadreel silent and still while Sam stitched his wounds, not speaking except for the occasional instruction to move slightly or warning that the next stitch might hurt more.

When it was done, Sam bandaged Gadreel's chest and helped him to sit up before he left the room. He went to the kitchen, where Cas was making soup and sandwiches.

"Thank you for helping him." Cas said as he waved off Sam's attempts to help with lunch. "I know this is a difficult situation for you."

"To say the least." Sam huffed.

"If you can both get past your hurt and anger, you and Gadreel would be good for one another." Cas continued. "You could help one another heal mentally."

"His hurt and anger?" Sam scoffed.

"Gadreel has been wronged by Heaven." Cas said. "Much as you have. He has made mistakes in trying to atone for previous mistakes. He carries much guilt, anger, and regret. He reminds me greatly of you."

Gadreel came into the room then, so the conversation ended.

After lunch, Cas cleared the dishes while Sam and Gadreel awkwardly sat facing one another with Gadreel's hands facing down across Sam's outstretched palms.

Cas left the room, leaving them alone, and the uncomfortable silence magnified.

"Sam." Gadreel began, then cleared his throat. "I owe you an apology. I tricked you and your brother into allowing me to possess you. At that time, I truly wished only to heal myself, and thought that I could help you in return. As time went on, I did not want to leave your vessel, so i did not heal you as quickly as I could have. Then when Metatron approached me, I became consumed with seeking redemption. I used your vessel to commit atrocities I regret. I never wished for any of this to happen, Sam. I meant what I said earlier. You are a good man, and you do not deserve the wrongs that have been done unto you."

Sam sat quietly for several minutes, a series of frowns and thoughtful expressions crossing his face. "I appreciate your apology." he said finally. "But it doesn't change anything. "Kevin is still dead. Dean is still dead _and_ missing. And I still wish you had never answered Dean's prayer."

"I know." Gadreel nodded. "I have seen the guilt you carry, Sam. You feel your life is worth less than others and that you deserve to die but ... "

Sam stood so abruptly his chair fell over backwards. "What is it with everyone who possesses me playing around in my head?" he shouted. "Why can't my private thought stay private? You, Meg, Lucifer - You all throw my own thoughts back at me! Why can't you let me think in peace?"

He turned and stomped down the hall to his own room, and locked the door behind him.

Ten minutes later, he realized that was a mistake, because he really needed to be researching after losing the whole morning tending to Gadreel's wounds.

He went to the library, where Gadreel sat at one table with a stack of books in front of him.

"Sam, I ... " the angel began, but Sam held up a hand to cut him off.

"Just don't." he said. "Just ... just keep your ideas to yourself."

Gadreel nodded, so Sam sat down and picked up a book.

They worked quietly, only speaking when one or the other found a piece of information that might turn out useful.

By the time Cas came in and informed them he had picked up a pizza, neither of had actually found anything useful.

"When I went out this afternoon, I summoned Death." Cas informed them as they ate. "He confirmed that Crowley is in possession of Dean's body."

Sam put down his food, focused on Cas.

"And apparently, Dean's soul is still within his body - not in the Veil, or Heaven, Hell, or Purgatory." Cas added. "It has something to do with the Mark."

"Is he ... is he a _zombie?"_ Sam asked.

"No." Cas shook his head. "It is difficult to get answers Death does not want to give, or to keep him long when he does not wish to stay. But the implication was that the Mark has resurrected Dean."

"So what?" Sam shoved his plate away. "He's alive, but under Crowley's control?"

"That would appear to be the case." Cas agreed.

"Should we change the focus of our research to how to break Crowley's spell on Dean?" Gadreel suggested.

"No." Sam shook his head. "We've got to find out everything we can about the Mark. This may actually be our best case scenario." Sam grabbed the nearest pad and began jotting notes. "We just have to get him back and break Crowley's control over him. We don't have to reunite his body and soul or raise him from the dead."

"As you wish." Gadreel answered.

Cas cleared away the pizza, while Sam and Gadreel sat down and held hands again.

They immediately fell into another awkward silence, until Sam said "Tell me about the garden."

Gadreel smiled faintly, and began to describe the land he had once guarded. He told of the flowers and fruit that grew there, how God himself would come in the evenings to walk barefoot through the grass, how the other angels would come to admire their Father's creation, how Adam and Eve were innocent, childlike beings.

They sat talking for almost half an hour before Gadreel's stories were interrupted by his yawning.

"We should both get some rest." Sam said.

He followed Gadreel to his room, helping the angel take off his shirt and lie down, then went down the hall to his own room. As he passed Dean's room, he noticed Cas in there, just sitting and staring at Dean's empty bed.

Sam left Cas to his thoughts.

* * *

The next morning, Sam woke with the ache in his chest again, but not as sharp as usual.

Cas already had coffee made, and was reading the side of a box of pancake mix.

Sam took a cup, then headed down the hall to check on Gadreel.

He found the angel sitting up on the side of the bed, pain creased in pain. Two of the bandages had visible red spots, so Sam peeled them back to look at the wounds.

They had seeped a little blood, the stab wound more than the others of course, but otherwise looked very much like the morning after any time he had stitched up Dean. No signs of infection, which was good, but no real signs of healing, either.

"You should, uh," Sam gestured vaguely at Gadreel's chest. "You should take a shower after while, wash these good with soap and water, and I'll put some antibiotic on them and clean dressings."

"Thank you." Gadreel nodded.

Sam checked in with Cas, who was carefully measuring oil into a mixing bowl. He refused Sam's offer of help, telling him that it would be a few minutes before breakfast was ready.

Sam grabbed clean clothes from his room, a towel from the linen closet, and headed to the shower room.

The hot water began to relax muscles he hadn't realized were tense. He stretched and turned, letting the spray melt away the tension. He began to bathe, smoothing soap over his arms and chest, until he came to his groin, which was slightly stirred.

He soaped up his hand and wrapped it around his cock, hissing at the first sensations to zing through his nerves. He stroked the shaft slowly, his eyes falling closed as he focused on his arousal. One, two, three strokes, then his hand twisting over the head, his thumb finding the spot under ...

His eyes flew open at the sound of an intake of breath, barely audible over the sound of the running water.

Gadreel stood in the shower room, as naked as he, watching Sam.

"Dude!" Sam turned quickly into the spray, his back to Gadreel, rinsing off the soap and then grabbing his towel, which he wrapped around his midsection.

"You said I should take a shower." Gadreel frowned, waving at his own chest, bare of bandages.

"I didn't say with me!" Sam shook with pent up energy.

Gadreel tilted his head curiously in the manner Sam had long come to associate with angels. "Why are you ashamed?" Gadreel looked from Sam's head to his feet and back again. "Sexual pleasure is a gift from my father. It was meant to be shared with the mate of one's choice. The symbolic joining of the flesh is a reflection of the bonding of the souls. It is a method to foster intimacy and emotional closeness. But for one that is unmated, the release of an orgasm is still an excellent method to relieve stress and infuse oxytocins, endorphins, and dopamine through the system."

"Humans, most humans anyway, prefer to take their pleasure privately, not with an audience." Sam found himself explaining.

"I apologize for disturbing you." Gadreel said. "I will wait outside while you finish."

"No." Sam shook his head. "I'm done here. I'll just ... uh, you get your shower now."

He gathered his clothes and headed out, past Gadreel who still stood there naked, making no attempt to cover himself.

Sam went back to his room, dressed, and went to the kitchen, where he insisted on helping Cas with the pancakes because the ones Cas had made were burnt on the edges and still runny in the center.

Gadreel came in just as they finished the pancakes, his hair wet, feet bare, and chest unbandaged.

Cas frowned at the wounds. "I would have hoped for better healing by now." He looked over the cuts, and then at Sam. "Perhaps we should increase the duration of the healing sessions until more progress is made." He turned back to Gadreel as Sam retrieved the syrup from the cabinet. "Did you enjoy your shower?"

"Yes," Gadreel nodded. "Thanks to Sam, I masturbated in the shower and feel much better, as well as clean."

It was a good thing the syrup was in a plastic bottle, because it slipped from Sam's hands and bounced on the tile floor.

Cas looked at Sam, his usual unemotional face quirked in curiosity and amusement.

"No." Sam said. "Just no."

They ate in silence, and Cas left them alone after breakfast, telling them they should lay on hands for twenty minutes or so this time.

Once again, they found themselves at the table, holding hands, awkwardly silent.

"Sam." Gadreel began. "I apologize for disturbing you earlier in the shower room. I know that you have been a victim of sexual assault in the past, and I did not wish to ... "

"Yeah. No, it's fine." Sam hastily assured him.

"I would not victimize you in such a way." Gadreel said. "While I was in your vessel, I never used your body in that capacity."

"Thank you, for that." Sam frowned, then shook his head slightly.

"I know that trauma is deeply hidden within you, and that you do not like to talk about it, but if you ever did wish to do so, you could talk to me. I already know so you wouldn't have to explain many of the uncomfortable details." Gadreel offered.

"Yeah, I don't see that happening." Sam looked off across the room. "It's not something I talk about, period. You were in prison. Do you talk about what happened to you there?"

"I was not sexually assaulted by the guards." Gadreel shrugged. "Sexual violence is a human torture. Angels do not have physical bodies as humans do. When we need to be corporeal, we use a human vessel, so having one's bodily autonomy corrupted does not hold the same type of horror for angels. I have been, what you would probably call soul raped. It is much more devastating to an angel. But you know the pain I speak of, because you have been soul raped as well."

Sam nodded, his jaw tight and tense. "Could we please talk about something else?"

"Tell me about how you are tracking demonic omens with the computer and how it will help us find your brother."

Realization suddenly struck Sam. "You're helping me find my brother, even though he tried to kill you."

"He was not himself, due to the Mark." Gadreel nodded. "And even if he had been, I would have deserved death, after the things I had done." He paused, looking away. "I do hope that once we find Dean, and find a way to remove the Mark, he is able to forgive me. I lived with Dean for many months, and I hold a great admiration for him as well."

"You hold a great admiration for my brother, who wanders around in a dead guy's robe, ogles naked Oriental women in magazines, and farts when we're watching tv together." Sam quirked an eyebrow.

"He is a good man, under it all." Gadreel answered. "As are you, Sam Winchester."

The silence descended again, not as awkward, but neither of them broke it until their twenty minutes were up.

* * *

Cas announced that he had a lead on some demonic omens in the northwest, and would be setting out later in the day. He made a trip to town to purchase grocery items for the bunker, and some supplies for his trip.

Sam and Gadreel spent their morning in the library, working silently. When Cas returned, Sam helped him to make sandwiches for everyone and the three of them sat down together, Sam and Gadreel eating their lunch, before Cas left.

Sam promised to continue working with Gadreel, and made Cas promise that he would call with any news of Dean, no matter how small or insignificant the tip might be.

* * *

"Did he have a family?" Sam asked, as they sat down to their afternoon hands on session. "Your vessel, I mean."

"Steve." Gadreel offered. "No. He was an orphan, who had lived with his grandparents as a child. His grandmother had died several years ago, and his grandfather died of a lengthy illness shortly before The Fall. Steve ... he had spent so much time caring for his grandfather over the past several years, he didn't really know what to do once the grandfather was gone. He was ... very lonely. I suppose that is why he turned to religion."

Sam nodded, staring down at the table. "That kind of loneliness? Yeah, I can understand why he would."

"Yes," Gadreel agreed. "God never intended for any creation to live a solitary life. Especially humans."

Sam looked up then, meeting the angel's eyes. "You've been lonely like that."

"I was imprisoned since the beginning of time." Gadreel said, a faraway look in his eyes. "For a small portion of those years, an angel named Abner was in the next cell. But for most of them, I was alone, except for the guards, who offered no companionship, only torment and degradation."

"So you were never around humans or other angels." Sam observed. "Huh."

"That is correct." Gadreel agreed. "Why?"

Sam shrugged. "Just makes some things make sense. Did God say you were to be locked up forever? Because that seems a little extreme."

"My Father had Michael to lock me away, and then he left." Gadreel said. "No one was willing to defy him by letting me out, even when he did not return."

"Do you think he's dead?" Sam asked.

Gadreel hesitated before answering. "I would like to think the angels would know if he were dead. But on the other hand, it reflects poorly on my Father if he is not dead, and simply chose to stay away this long."

Sam nodded in agreement, and they finished the session again in silence, but this time it didn't feel unpleasant at all.

* * *

They spent the afternoon researching again. Sam explained the algorithm he had programmed into the computer to track demonic omens, which Gadreel surprisingly understood quickly for a celestial being who had very limited technological experience.

As they made sandwiches again for dinner, Gadreel turned to Sam.

"Could we possibly extend our session this evening?" He asked. "My vessel is beginning to develop an infection deep in his chest due to the stab wound."

Sam frowned. "Yeah. Absolutely."

When they sat down to begin the session, he suggested that they both silently focus on the transfer of soul energy and grace. Sam set the kitchen timer, closed his eyes, and concentrated. For good measure, he made Gadreel take some vitamins before they headed off to their bedrooms.

Sam woke before daylight, overwhelmed with a feeling that something was not right. He checked his phone for messages, but there were none. He got up and checked the Bunker, where nothing seemed out of place.

He went to Gadreel's room, intending only to peek in and make sure the angel was sleeping.

He found what was wrong.

Gadreel lay panting, sweating, his eyes glassy and unfocused.

Sam quickly crossed the room and put a hand on Gadreel's arm.

He was burning up with fever.

"Gadreel!" Sam said sharply.

"Sam," the angel gasped. "I am sorry. I did not mean to wake you."

"Gadreel, if you are this sick, wake me!" Sam said. "I'm going to get you some medicine, okay?"

Gadreel nodded, so Sam went to the first aid kit to get a pain pill and a couple antibiotic tablets.

He came back and helped Gadreel to sit up to take them, only then noticing that Gadreel had stripped down to his boxers. He insisted that Gadreel drink the whole glass of water, as a fever this high could quickly dehydrate him.

He went to the kitchen and filled the same bowl he had used to clean up Dean with warm water, tamping down the emotions. He returned to the room and sponged down Gadreel, trying to reduce the fever. He then made Gadreel drink two more glasses of water, and by the time he took the glasses to the kitchen and came back, he could not tell that the fever had dropped at all.

Desperate, Sam called Cas, and explained the situation to him.

"I concentrated on the soul energy transfer for half an hour last night, Cas! Obviously it didn't help! What do I do now?"

Cas sighed. "I don't know. If the grace and soul merger did not help, I do not think he could be helped in a hospital. We may not be able to save him, Sam."

Sam sighed. "I'm going to do everything I can."

"I know you will." Cas assured. "Keep me posted."

Sam returned to find that Gadreel's fever seemed to be even higher.

"The pain pill should have brought it down." he muttered, mostly to himself.

"Sam," Gadreel said.

Sam looked up at him.

"Sam, my vessel is gravely ill. I know you will do everything you can to save me. But if you are unsuccessful, please do not blame yourself."

"You can stop with all that." Sam choked, Gadreel's words reminding him of a similar scene with Dean just days ago. "Because I am going to save you."

"You are not an abomination, Sam Winchester." Gadreel said. "If this is my time, I want you to know this. You are not an abomination. You are a good man. You did not deserve what has been done to you."

Sam bit his lip and nodded. "Okay. But let's save the chick flick moments for later. Because there _is_ going to be a later."

He rushed down the hall to his own room and got the rolling desk chair and brought it back to Gadreel.

"Here, let's sit you on this. Because I'm going to take you and rinse you off in the shower. I don't think you can walk on your own, and if I try to help you walk, it's going to pull on your chest wounds."

He helped Gadreel into the chair and rolled him down the hall. Once there, Sam quickly stripped down to his own boxers and held Gadreel upright under lukewarm water. Within five minutes, Gadreel's skin felt cooler and Sam was starting to shiver. He helped Gadreel dry off, rolled him back into the bedroom, dressed him in clean boxers, and put him back in the bed.

Gadreel's eyes were heavy, so Sam told him to get some rest. Sam slid in beside him, dressed only in boxers as well, and pressed the length of his body against Gadreel's

Sam dared not pray, for fear that any angel that answered might not be friendly, but he repeated his own mantra in his mind.

_I call upon whatever of Gadreel's grace or Lucifer's grace that remains in my system to help Gadreel. I harness the power of my soul to the grace in Gadreel's body ..._

His eyes flew open.

_Harness the power of my soul._

Henry had said something about harnessing the power of his soul for a spell. Which meant the Men of Letters knew how to do that.

Sam jumped from the bed and ran to the library. Thankfully he had done at least a rudimentary cataloging of the books in the library, but it still took him almost twenty minutes to find the right book. He flipped through the spell book, noting something called homenum revelio and made mental note that later he would have to find out how J. K. Rowling knew about that.

He found the spell to harness the power of his soul, and carried the book with him as he walked down the hall. The whole thing was incredibly simple to the point Sam questioned that it would even work. Rub himself with some common herbs that they had in the storeroom, say a verse, and bingo.

He gathered the herbs and took them back to Gadreel's room. He put them and the book on the night stand, stretched out beside the angel with as much of their bodies touching as possible, and began the spell.

A warm glow began in Sam's chest, quickly building in heat and intensity, spreading out until he felt as if it burst from every pore in his body. He gasped, his body involuntary jerking, and felt Gadreel flail as well.

It all cleared as quickly as it had begun, and Sam felt as weak as he ever had in his life, even when going through the trials.

"Sam?" Gadreel asked, his voice stronger than it had been since early the day before.

He turned slowly to find Gadreel sitting up, his eyes wide in amazement as he looked at his unblemished chest.

Sam smiled and fell back onto the pillow.

'It worked." he murmured.

"Sam, what did you do?" Gadreel asked.

"I harnessed the power of my soul to heal you." Sam answered.

"Sam, you should not have done that." Gadreel shook his head. "I was too weak. It could have killed you."

"It didn't." Sam said, his eyes sliding closed. "Can I sleep now?"

There was a brief second, before unconsciousness took him, that Sam felt himself being cradled in strong arms against a warm chest.

It was pretty nice.

* * *

At 9am, Sam awakened, his face pressed against Gadreel's chest.

Gadreel must have felt him stir, because he backed away to look at Sam.

"How do you feel?"

"Like I was hit by a truck." Sam said honestly. "But better than a few hours ago."

"Good." Gadreel nodded. "You did it, Sam. You healed this body completely, and my grace is regenerating."

"Good." Sam rolled onto his back. "Is there coffee?"

"No." Gadreel answered. "I was afraid to leave you in your weakened state. I have been trying to return some of your soul energy to you. It will go quickly now that my vessel is healed and my grace is repairing itself. But we can go make coffee."

Sam dragged himself to a sitting position, and this time it was Gadreel who helped Sam to stand and walk to the kitchen.

Sam sat at the table and instructed on how to make coffee. Gadreel made Sam a sandwich, but said his vessel was restored to the point he no longer needed to eat.

"i wish to thank you." Gadreel said as he put the plate and cup on the table and sat down. "You saved me at great personal risk to yourself. You truly are a hero, Sam Winchester."

"No," Sam shook his head, and swallowed. "I just didn't want you to die on me."

"Sam." Gadreel sighed. "I have become very fond of you. I know at this time your priority is to find your brother and you have no time for distractions. But I would like to stay by your side and help you to find him. And after you find him, I would still like to stay by your side."

Sam took a long drink of coffee before answering. "Gadreel, I'm not the hero you keep trying to tell me I am. I'm the guy who drank demon blood and let Lucifer out and wreaked havoc on the country by running around without a soul for a year. But I want you to stay. And if you still want me around after we find Dean, I'd like to see where things could go."

Gadreel smiled. "Sam, I know it is not the time to say this either, but when this is over, when we have resolved your brother's disappearance, I wish for the two of us to join our bodies carnally for the purpose of sexual gratification."

Sam couldn't stop the stunned bark of laughter that erupted from his throat. "Um, yeah. Angel pick up lines. You're right. Not the right time. But something we'll discuss later."

Gadreel continued to stare into Sam's eyes, unblinking. "I could change vessels if you would be more comfortable with a female vessel."

Sam shook his head. "I'm fine with whatever vessel, as long as I know it's you in there, and only you. That some other poor soul isn't being held hostage."

"There is only me in here." Gadreel nodded. "The human who was my vessel died from your brother's attack. I was near death myself when you and Castiel found me in the field."

"I know." Sam sighed, and in spite of himself, he yawned.

"Come on, then." Gadreel took his hand and led him toward the hall. "Let's get some rest, and then find Dean."

 


End file.
